by Chrys Fey
Donovan followed her up. “Beth.”
She looked over her shoulder at Donovan.
“Thorn was frantic when your wire wasn’t working. He was on his radio, demanding his team to move in immediately, but the undercover agent whispered you were in the Hummer and would be in the line of fire. When your voice came through and we heard you say deal, Thorn was out of the car before I was. He was screaming into his radio while running around the side of the building. He wanted to get to you as fast as possible. I went the other way in case you ran that way. Thorn did everything I would’ve done.”
Hearing Donovan back up Thorn made her regret her words. The hurt in Thorn’s eyes came back to her. “I was scared and angry,” she whispered.
“I know. We all were.” He took her arms. “But you did a great job.”
She looked down at her red heels. “I’ll call him later to apologize.”
“That’d be good.”
Until then, she wanted nothing more than to take a scalding shower to wash away the lusting gazes she had felt on her. She stripped out of her clothes, stepped under the scalding water, and scrubbed her body, imagining the fantasies the men had conjured of her washing down the drain. When she felt clean, she dressed in cotton pajamas and crawled onto the couch next to Donovan. He linked his arms around her, kissed her temple, and gave her everything she needed—security, warmth, and comfort. She absorbed his love for the rest of the day.
****
While having her morning cup of coffee, Beth called Thorn.
“Beth?” Thorn’s voice sounded cautious and strained, as if he were preparing for her to chew him up and spit him out.
“That’s all wrong,” she said. “You’re not supposed to answer your phone saying my name. You should say, ‘This is Detective Thorn.’”
“I’ll make a note of that.”
Her effort at creating light conversation failed. She winced. “Thorn, I’m sorry for what I said to you yesterday. It wasn’t your fault my wire wasn’t working. Donovan told me how frantic you were. I was shaken up, but I shouldn’t have accused you of not having my back. Aside from Donovan, you’re the only other person I wholeheartedly trust with my life.”
“Thanks.” Relief emitted off his voice like radio waves. “Don’t tell Donovan I said this but…I love you. Like a sister,” he clarified, “but love is love.”
She warmed at his words. “I love you, too, Thorn. And, for the record, I wouldn’t mind being your civilian operative again. I would just have to convince Donovan.”
Thorn chuckled. “You’re the best civilian operative in all of Florida.”
She smiled. “What about Ramirez? Any news on him?”
“Well, what you did helped us to nab him. He couldn’t get away, especially not while handcuffed to the steering wheel.” Laughter was in his voice. “And he’s been charged with assault and murder. He’s not getting out.”
Beth sighed. “Good.”
Chapter Five
Donovan walked beside an electrical fence topped with tangled barbed wire and entered a prison. Thorn escorted him into the bowels of the building. None of the officers stopped them or so much as glanced at Donovan. With Thorn leading the way, he was invisible.
Neither of them said a word until they paused at a door in the middle of the maze. “Are you sure about this?” Thorn asked Donovan.
“If they were threatening me, I wouldn’t give a damn, but they’re harassing Beth. Yes, I’m sure.”
Thorn nodded and opened the door to an interrogation room. Donovan stepped in, and his eyes landed on the dirty cop in a blue jumpsuit with his hands and feet shackled. His hair had grown shabbier, and his beard thicker. His eyes had sunk into hollows, and his skin was as pale as glue, but Donovan recognized the face of the man he had hunted for months—David Buckland, his brother’s murderer.
Donovan and Thorn took a seat across from him.
A slow smile stretched the tight skin on Buck’s face. He let out a laugh. “Ryan Goldwyn’s little brother is my first visitor? That’s comical.”
“I’m not visiting you, Buck,” Donovan spat. “I’m here to get answers.”
“Oh, yeah?” Buck leaned back, as if this was going to be entertaining.
“Beth’s been receiving threatening phone calls from members of your ring.”
“Really? How fascinating.” Buck sneered with yellowed teeth.
Donovan felt like punching Buck until his teeth fell from his gums. He gripped his hands into white-knuckled fists. “Who are the other men you worked with?”
“I’ve been locked up for over a year. I don’t remember any of their names.”
“You remembered mine.”
Buck leaned forward. The chains jingled. “That’s because I have two regrets. Just two regrets for the forty years I’ve been alive, and both regrets involve you. When you obsess over something, you don’t forget the names of the people centered in it.” He leaned closer. “First, I regret not killing you the second I saw you in your brother’s doorway. Chewy and I should’ve grabbed you, hauled you in, and killed you next to your brother. We could’ve made it look like two brothers beat themselves to death.”
The image of his brother’s dead body floated in Donovan’s mind.
“My second regret is not killing you and your girl in California when I had the chance. I should’ve punched her to death. Then I should’ve picked up that rock and impaled your skull with it. If I had done that, I’d be a free man.”
Donovan’s chest heaved. “Tell me their names, or so help me…” His growl faded. He didn’t think he should say what he intended to do with Thorn there. Even though he was a friend, Thorn was still a law enforcement officer.
Thorn sat forward. “Buck, we’re not going to sit here and fuck around with you. I’m not going to promise shit because you made your bed. You’re going to stay behind bars for the rest of your sentence. You’ll get out when you’re eighty. Maybe. Regardless, you’re going to be here for a long time, but I can offer you privileges and a few luxuries to make your situation tolerable if you help us out. If you don’t…” Thorn’s lips spread into a sneer. “I’ll tell every man in this prison, who’s here because of you, that you’re an inmate. And I’ll tell the guards to turn a blind eye when you get your ass beat. You think you have allies here? Think again. You killed a respectable man of the shield. The officers here hate your fucking guts. They wouldn’t care if you got stuck with a contraband blade. And I may provide that blade to Travis Gordon. You remember him, don’t you?”
Donovan glanced at Buck. His white face turned nearly transparent with fear. Donovan didn’t recognize the name Travis Gordon, but Buck obviously did.
“I can make sure a blade gets passed to him with the order to kill you. I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to do it.”
Buck’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I knew the officers and dealers in this county, and you already have them. If someone is threatening you, they’re from out of town, and I wouldn’t know their names. You’d have to ask Jackson Storm.”
Thorn nodded. “I’ll see what I can do about a few privileges.”
Outside the interrogation room, Donovan turned to Thorn. “Get me in to see him.”
“Donovan—”
“Get. Me. In.”
Thorn rocked back on his heels. “All right. Come on.”
Donovan followed Thorn into maximum security lockup. Guards were posted on the roof with semi-automatic guns in their hands as they kept a watchful eye on the grounds. More guards stood ready at the prison’s exits. After walking through a metal detector, Donovan and Thorn entered the building. Every few yards, though, they had to be cleared by a security guard before they could go through another door. Donovan stood silently while Thorn requested to see Jackson Storm. After thirty minutes, an officer led them to a secure room. A metal chair sat in front of a metal loop in the concrete floor. Two other chairs were positioned a few feet away. Donovan and Thorn sat in those chairs.
; Two officers led Jackson into the room. The clank of the chains restraining him echoed in the room. The officers forced Jackson into the chair and latched the chains to the loop in the concrete. With a nod to Thorn, the officers left.
Jackson grinned. His gaze settled on Thorn. “One.”
He looked at Donovan. “Two.”
Then he turned his head to the empty place beside Donovan. “Three.”
He tilted his head. “Where’s your girl? Is she at home? Safe and sound?”
Donovan’s jaw clenched. “She’s none of your concern.”
One corner of Jackson’s mouth lifted. The other corner of his mouth took longer to join it. His smile was one of psychotic delight. His head fell back in laughter. “None of my concern? You’re wrong about that. I had such plans for her in California. I was going to start by cutting off her fingers and toes. I wanted to box them up and send you one each day. Twenty digits, that’s twenty days of torment. I wanted you to feel sick over seeing a piece of your woman inside a box. I wanted you to know she suffered, and I wanted you to know it was your fault. To prolong her agony, I was going to carve out her uterus. After that, she wouldn’t be alive much longer, so I would’ve sliced off her breasts and left her to bleed to death. I planned on dumping her body where someone would quickly find her.”
Donovan couldn’t stop himself from imagining Beth—beautiful, strong Beth—mutilated at the hands of Jackson Storm. His stomach rolled with bile. He pushed it down and shot to his feet.
Thorn intercepted his charge and pushed him back. “Donovan, he’s baiting you on purpose. Stop.”
The sound of Jackson’s chuckles echoed throughout the small, sparse room.
Donovan’s glare flashed to him.
Jackson stared at him with eyes that glittered with madness. “Don’t think I didn’t have plans for you, son. I was going to gut you and remove your organs…while you were still alive and kicking, might I add. Then I was going to pack you full of cocaine, stuff you in a coffin, and send you off on a ship.” His sneer grew. “You were going to help me illegally ship drugs overseas. I figured that would be the most fitting death for the brother of an Internal Affairs Investigator.”
Donovan seethed. A red haze covered his vision. His heart throbbed painfully at every pulse point. If Thorn hadn’t been restraining him, Donovan would’ve launched himself at Jackson with his fists flying.
“I’m disappointed I can’t do any of those things,” Jackson said, “but that’s what’s so great about having so many people willing to kill for me.”
Thorn pushed Donovan aside. “Who? I want names.”
Jackson turned to Thorn. “Why should I give you names? You have no leverage with me, Detective. There’s nothing I want. And why would I snitch on men who are loyal to me and are keeping my business alive?”
“What do you gain from that?”
“I gain the satisfaction that I can cause havoc even while in maximum lockup.”
Donovan surged forward. “Your men have been threatening Beth, and I’m done with it.”
“If all they’ve been doing is threatening her, you’re lucky. I put a kill order out on the two of you.”
Donovan’s chest tightened. “Then take it back.”
“Can’t. Once a kill order goes out, it’s out forever. Besides, I don’t want to. You have an unknowable amount of killers after you, son. The two of you will be dead, sooner or later.”
Donovan stomped out of the building. Frustration and fear rolled through him like two crashing waves. He didn’t stop until he got to his truck. Breathing heavily, he wanted to throw his fist through the driver’s side window, but that would only give him a bloody fist and a window repair bill. He faced Thorn who had parked next to him. “What can we do?”
Thorn shook his head and looked off into the distance as if waiting for an answer from the Almighty. His head lowered, and his green-eyed gaze met Donovan’s. “I don’t like this, but I don’t know if there’s anything we can do, other than to put you two into hiding.”
“We’re not going to hide.”
Thorn sighed. “I’ll talk to Chief Cormac.”
Donovan unlocked his truck and paused with his hand on the top of the door. “Wait. Who’s Travis Gordon?”
“A man you don’t mess with, and Buck arrested him after shooting Travis’s girlfriend twice in the chest, killing her. Travis has had a craving for Buck’s blood ever since.”
“And you would’ve slipped him a blade?”
“I would’ve done what was necessary.” Thorn didn’t have to say anymore for Donovan to know he would’ve found a way to get that blade to Travis. “For both of your sakes, be careful.”
Donovan acknowledged Thorn’s warning with a nod before climbing into his truck. During the drive home, Jackson’s words came back to haunt him. Twenty digits…twenty days…carve out her uterus…slice off her breasts. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. The realization Jackson had come close to executing his plan knotted Donovan’s stomach with a dozen fisherman’s knots. If he and Thorn hadn’t gone back upstairs when they did, they wouldn’t have seen Jackson yanking Beth out of the hotel room, her arms bound and a strip of duct tape stamped over her mouth. Seeing her like that—a prisoner to an infamous killer—shot Donovan’s heart to his throat. The three of them were able to stop Jackson. Eventually. It took a pen, a knife, a gun, a car, and a few kicks to finally cripple him. They thought his threat ended when Jackson was locked up.
They were wrong.
Donovan swallowed hard. Beth was in danger. Jackson’s men could still execute his murderous plan, or they could kill her in an even worse way. His foot pressed down on the gas pedal. No way in hell will I let them take her away from me! His vow was a fierce thought that bounced against his temples, threatening a migraine. Despite his oath, he was determined to get home, to make sure Beth was still there…safe and sound.
He took the stairs two at a time and rushed into their apartment. “Beth?” He quickly locked the door and checked the kitchen.
“Beth?” He hurried into the empty living room. “Beth!” He spun around when the bedroom door opened.
Beth walked out with her hand to her chest. “What? What’s wrong?”
Donovan’s feet ate up the space between them. He yanked her close to his body.
She embraced him in return. Her hand rubbed his back. “Did you have a bad day?”
His heart raced. You have no idea, baby. And he didn’t want her to know. He kissed her as if he hadn’t seen her in a decade. Her mouth responded to him, letting him draw the things he needed from her—reassurance, strength, and love. He pulled back to press his lips to her left eye, the eye that had swelled shut and transformed with hideous colors when Buck had cracked his fist into her face. He dipped his head to the tank top she wore and kissed the soft skin at the top of her breasts. Taking her hands into his, he kissed her fingers. Then he dropped to his knees to do the same to her bare toes.
“Donovan—”
He reared up onto his knees, lifted her shirt, and planted a final kiss below her navel. With his love for Beth bursting inside him, mixing with the horror of what Jackson said, he wrapped his arms around her legs and laid his cheek against her stomach.
Beth’s hands cupped the back of his head, and her fingers combed through his hair.
“Donovan, what’s wrong?”
He squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his hold on her. “I’m just glad you’re here.”
“Where else would I be?”
Six feet under. That thought came faster than he liked. He got up, driving his thoughts back, and pulled Beth toward the couch where he lay with her in his arms.
Chapter Six
Beth filled her cup to the rim with coffee, milk, and sugar and thought about her task for the day—Mission: Wedding Dress. The seamstress altered it, and now, it waited for her to bring it home.
Months ago, when she first walked into the bridal boutique, she was overwhelmed by the white-ou
t of wedding dresses. Silk, lace, tulle, satin, and velvet. Sweetheart necklines, strapless, off-the-shoulder, ankle-length, and A-line. The choices were daunting. Leighton went with her, but she didn’t make it any easier. She kept finding the biggest, most outrageous dresses and pushing Beth to try them on for fun. Beth didn’t want a dress with a long train or full skirt that made her feel like a cake topper. She wanted something simple that reflected her sportiness but made her feel beautiful. And she sure as hell didn’t want a white dress or a veil.
After she told the sales women what she had in mind for the hundredth time, she finally found a dress that didn’t make her cringe or feel like an imposter pretending to be a virgin. Now when she thought of her dress, she smiled and couldn’t wait to put it on for the real thing.
Draining her coffee, she set the cup in the sink and picked up her keys to leave.
“Where are you running off to?”
She slung her bag over her shoulder and glanced at Donovan as he set aside the newspaper. “I have an errand to run. It won’t take long.”
“I’ll come with you.”
She held up her hands. “No! I’m getting my dress. You can’t see it.”
He rose from the couch and collected his cell phone. “I’ll stay in the car.”
“I don’t want you jinxing anything by even being near it.”
Donovan stood in front of her with eyebrows bunched together. “Since when are you superstitious?”
“Since now.” She smiled. “Be a good groom and wait for your bride to come back with her dress. It won’t take long.”
He sighed and gave her a parting kiss. “Okay, be careful.
Beth paused. She was going to ask what she had to be careful about then figured it was a general request anyone would give a loved one.
“You be careful, too.” She kissed him in return. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
Two women were inside the bridal boutique looking for the dress of their dreams when Beth arrived. The women they came equipped with for support and opinions cooed over every dress. Beth slipped past them, offering smiles to be kind, but quickly turned away before they could suck her into their wedding orbits. She stepped up to the front desk.
